A pure-blood prince
by Maargo
Summary: Draco Malfoy's life takes an unexpected turn when the Dark Lord gives him a special task before the beginning of Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts. In order to lure Harry Potter from Dumbledore's protection, Draco has to find a way to abduct one of his best friends. It was the mudblood that saved Harry so it is only fitting therefore that it should be the mudblood that ruins him.
1. Chapter 1

The room was as silent as a graveyard. Only the few of their inner circle occupied otherwise long ornate table, leaving empty seats among them. The drawing room, where the meeting took place, was handsome and rather spacious, now that all the usual furniture was pushed up against the high, stone walls. The crystal chandelier that hung right above them was drenched in darkness, as the only source of light was a feeble fire, stirring beneath a antic marble fireplace.

Draco Malfoy sat as silently as the rest of them, his face illuminated from one site, with his cold, grey eyes focused on the table in front of him. He could feel his mother shifting uneasy on his left… his father's seat on his right was deserted.

The dead silence was broken, at last, by the tall, black-cloaked figure, sitting at the far end of the table.

"So," he said with a soft, dangerous voice that carved into silence like a dagger. Draco slowly turned his gaze toward the man who spoke, taking in his grotesque appearance once more, then quickly lowering his eyes as though too much of it could impair his sight.

"The damage is done, as it seems." Nobody answered. Nobody even dared to look up.

"My faithful death eaters were, once more, outsmarted by a fifteen year old." His words, although spoken with a calm, composed voice, were not any less sinister than when he had screamed them a few weeks ago. Draco still felt deep pain in his bones, from when one of his cruciatus curses hit him in the chest.

"It seems only fitting, therefore, that I shall intrust my next task… on a fifteen year old." All heads shifted rapidly toward Draco and he could feel their gazes burning into his skin.

"My- my lord?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"The time has come for you to prove yourself, Draco," Voldemort said, his almost opaque, skeletally thin face contracting into a malicious smile. "To undo your father's wrongs." Draco could hear his mother's muffled moan, but she did not dare to speak.

"Harry Potter needs to be dealt with, once and for all. This process has been dragging for far too long due to the complete incompetence of my followers." At this point he paused for a moment, as though trying to control his temper.

It was Bellatrix Lestrange that spoke now. She was sitting closest to Voldemort, her body leaning slightly to him, as though he was a magnet, pulling her to him. She wore a tight, black gown, covering every inch of her skin, from her wrists, to her throat. Black hood, which was perched above head, casting a dark shadow on her face, was strapped together with a silver brooch in a shape of a snake. Draco remembered his aunt from old family photos. Her once rather beautiful features were now faded underneath the waxy skin and heavy lidded eyes. She usually sat straight, with her chin held high as if she was sitting on a throne, her unhinged gaze always on the Dark lord. But now, thought Draco, as he contemplated her, she looked rather disheveled as if she too had not forgotten the events from a couple of weeks ago.

"My lord…" she spoke quietly and softly as if to a lover. "My lord if I could…" But Lord Voldemort held up his hand and she fell silent in an instance.

"Harry Potter is untouchable under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore," he said and at the last two words, his voice vibrated with hatred. "I cannot harm him as long as he hides beneath the walls of Hogwarts. But we all know of his greatest weakness. It's what drove him to the ministry at the end of last year. It's what _almost,"_ he closed his reddened eyes momentarily to calm himself, "got him killed."

Draco remained silent as his insides began to turn. He knew the Dark Lord was close to his explanation on what part he, Draco, was to play in his plan.

" _Love,_ " said Lord Voldemort with contempt as if it was a curse word. "Love and sacrifice. It's what had saved him when I killed off his worthless mother and it will be what buries him at the end." His voice trailed away, his red, snake like eyes, lost somewhere in the distance. "The main question therefore is," he continued after a while, "Who does the Potter boy love and who will he be willing to sacrifice for." He turned to Draco, expectantly.

Draco thought for a moment, then spoke.

"He spends his time with Weasley and Granger. They were among the others who came to the ministry, for Black."

"Granger?" said Lord Voldemort, a slight crease between his eyebrows. "I've never heard of any Grangers."

"She's a mudblood… my lord."

"Ahhh…" said Lord Voldemort softly and smiling. "How fitting…. how _poetic_."

He stood up and the eyes of the death eaters followed him as he stalked to the fire. The light of the flames merely enhanced his grotesque features and his gleaming eyes.

"A mudblood saved him," he said, turning, his spider like fingers wrapped around his wand, "And a mudblood will ruin him."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the longest silences yet. Then the Dark Lord continued, his tone almost bussines-like.

"You, Draco, will find a way to get her across the protection line, circling the school. Since you are not of age and still have the trace on you, you won't be able to disapparate, even if you knew how. You will therefore have to find another way to bring her to an agreed place where we," he pointed at the death eaters, "will await you. There will be no need for us to seek out Potter… when he learns of the mudblood's fate, he will come and find us on his own." At last, thought Draco, the plan was revealed.

"You will speak of this to noone," continued Lord Voldemort. "As won't the rest of you."

There was a sudden, muffled sound, coming from the entrance of the room. Draco looked down and saw a gigantic snake, slithering on the cold, marble floor, it's head orientated towards her master.

"Ah, Nagini," he said softly. The death eaters flinched slightly when the snake past them, egging away from it's menacing fangs.

"You are on your last chance," said Lord Voldemort, caressing his pet's head lovingly, looking at both the Malfoys, who sat, frozen in their seats, with their pale skin, gray eyes and silky, silver hair. "I have been forgiving enough," he continued. " _Patient_ enough. You will get the mudblood across the line by the end of January. Fail this," he said, still softly, though his voice sook a little with suppressed fury." And Nagini will have two more meals this year."


	2. Chapter 2

**A special thanks to all of you who have read the first chapter- I hope you enjoyed. This is my first story so please leave comments and suggestions of improvements. I do not claim ownership- everything is owned by the lovely J.K.R.**

 **Chapter two**

Malfoy manor with its impressive interior stood on a large estate, which ended with a high, iron fence and a pair of impassable, massive gates. It was a late August evening and warm, summer air pressed heavily on the ground. Draco Malfoy stood in an almost complete darkness, somewhere in the middle of the garden, his figure dimly lit by the light, escaping from the diamond-paned windows. He strode past a grand, stone fountain, his bare feet landing on the soft grass, making him almost soundless. He wore pajama bottoms and an unbuttoned, white shirt, but he was not worried he would run into anyone. He was the only soul on the Malfoy manor grounds tonight.

His mother had gone, as did her sister Bella, who was staying in the manner since the incrimination of his father. Ever since Lucious was dragged from their home by the aurors, their house stripped down by those damn fools from the department of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, the house has been silent. Even his mother's cries in the middle of the night quieted after a few weeks, and left a tired, almost empty shell of a woman behind. Bellatrix's presence was supposed to ease his mother's suffering, but Draco thought his aunt made things all the more difficult for her. She was erratic, almost unstable at times, and only a few hours ago, they had another of their arguments. Draco could hear their muffled hisses and retorts from his room, as two women paced up and down the corridor. He could guess what the scuffle was about. They left soon after that; he watched them from his windows, one dark-hooded figure chasing another.

As distressed and upset his mother seemed to be concerning the task the Dark lord had given him, Draco felt different about it. He saw is as opportunity rather than punishment, whatever it was meant to be. And there was something else he was feeling, though he had not addressed this at loud. _Pride_. Pride that the Dark lord had chosen him… chosen him above all others… chosen him even though he was not even of age yet.

He paused for a moment, lifting his left hand's sleeve to his elbow. On his inner forearm was a thin, dark red mark, carved as though with a knife; a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. Draco ran his long, white fingers across his paper thin skin, still remembering the burning sensation as the dark lord pressed his wand up against it. He was branded as the true member of the inner circle, among all of the Dark lord's most trusted followers. How could he not feel the thrill, the _excitement_?

He retreated to the manor some half of an hour later, in the shelter of cold, stone walls, which soothed his heated, sweaty skin. He snapped his fingers with his hand, held high in the air and a small, battered looking house elf materialised from the thin air in front of him.

"Make me a plate and have it brought to my room with a glass of wine," said Draco coldly and strode past the creature, up the grand staircase on the second floor. He didn't know the elf's name, nor did he care- his mother kept changing them lately due to their unsatisfactory service and Draco didn't bother learning their names.

As he walked into his room (a spacious, darkened place with a large, king-sized bed in the middle of it), he heard a quiet knocking on the high window. He saw a handsome screech owl perched on the narrow ledge, with a letter tied to her leg. He crossed the room and opened the window, letting the bird fly in and hold its leg in the air. As he relieved her of the letter, she stretched her wings, hooted loudly and took of into the night. Draco broke the purple wax seal bearing a large H and opened the letter. He scanned the list of new books he will need for the new school year as well as a new cattle and some potion ingredients and…

He sat on his bed, frowning slightly. Now that the letter came, his mother will want to make a trip to Diagon Alley, for it was only a week left until he left for the Hogwarts. This was as good of a time as any to go through the final details of the plan he had in stored for the trip. For the last weeks he had pondered almost daily on all the different ways he could have achieved the task the Dark lord had given him. At first he crossed out the most obvious options, such as passing the protection line on foot or on a broomstick. Firstly, they were bound to have tighten the security over the summer now that the Dark Lord's return has gone public. Draco was almost sure that, in addition to stricter regulations of the students exiting the castle, there will probably be a few aurors patrolling the castle and the grounds as well.

But there had to be a better way, a smarter way to get the mudblood out of the school, he knew it. And then, just a few days ago, he remembered the story of a cabinet Montague had told him in the hospital wing last year after he had found him splintered in the bathroom. It had only taken a few hours of searching through the maner library for Draco to find everything about the so called Vanishing Cabinet, which apparently acts as a passage between one cabinet and it's sister. It had taken even less of a time for one of the house elves in their employment to discover that the only known cabinet of such talents was in the one and only- Burgin and Burke's shop.

Draco's strain of thought was interrupted abruptly by the clatter when the house elf appeared in the room, three plates filled with food and a goblet of red wine, purchased on his head.

"Will mister Malfoy want anything else tonight?" asked the elf with a squeaky voice, bowing to his master.

"No, go away," snarled Draco, annoyed about the interruption, and drank a sip of wine.

He had fallen asleep very late that night, lying on his pillows, pondering on how he would escape his mother's firm clutch to visit the Borgin and Burke's shop in the Diagon alley while the heavy, summer air blew softly through his open window.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

When the two Malfoys stepped onto the cobblestoned street of Diagon Alley, they found the place to be nearly deserted. Some of the shops, Draco saw, were boarded up and nearly all of them, even the open ones, had large Ministry posters pasted to their window fronts. It was as if someone drained the color from the street, leaving it with a dark, ominous vibe. The pair stopped in front of the window front bearing the black and white face of Bellatrix Lestrange who was sneering back at them with her teeth bared and her eyes oddly bulgy.

"She really likes this picture," said Narcissa contemplating her sister's photograph for a moment, frowning. "But she seems a bit deranged to me." They both smirked at each other and Draco was pleased to see that her blonde hair was, after long weeks, once again neatly combed at the back of her head, the expression on her face somewhat calmer. It seemed that wherever she and aunt Bellatrix disappeared to that night resulted into her returning to her dignified, composed self.

After he had gotten his new books at Flourish and Blotts, the two of them walked over to Madam Malkin's shop to buy new dress robes. Draco noticed that nobody shopped alone anymore. People were moving about in tight groups looking anxious, hurrying from shop to shop in order to finish their arrants quicker. Draco felt a rush of superiority flash through him, as he crossed the street carefree, for he knew he had nothing to fear. _He_ was on the right side.

"New dress robes," he said, coldly, as Madam Malkin hurried to the front of the shop to greet them. "Slytherin."

As the woman was fitting the robes on his shoulders, Draco stood before a mirror, gazing at his reflection. He liked what he saw; the deep, dark green robes suited his tall and slender built.

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, woman," he snarled, retracting his left arm as if she had scorned him. He turned his eye to the mirror once more… and then froze.

Just a few feet behind him stood the trio, watching him, rooted to the spot. Draco's eyes narrowed and he felt his back tense. His gaze went to Harry first, who stood in the middle, as he almost always did. He was nearly as tall as he was now, though still looking a bit skinny in his wornoff and overgrown muggle clothes, a reproachful look on his face. The weasley boy, who stood on his left, had his long, freckly face screwed up in a grimace, the Granger girl on his right, with her lion maned hair, looked anxious at the boys as if afraid the fight is going to break of.

Draco turned around slowly. He knew he must not seek a conflict though he had at least ten insults at the tip of his tongue. Even if his plan concerning the Granger girl was not yet formed in his head, he knew any rushed, uncontrolled events would only worsen his chances of getting the job done.

"Come on," he murmured to his mother. She too, has been glaring at the trio. "We'll come to pick things up when they're done."

He followed his mother's step toward the door without even looking at them, although he could have sworn he saw Potter's hand twinch a little as though he was about to reach for the wand.

"See you at school," snarled Draco, just before exiting the store, not quite being able to stop himself, and the door closed loudly behind him.

After that, the pair of them headed to the Apothecary, where Draco purchased some potion supplies, but they left fairly quickly, driven by the horrible smell of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. They ran to Mrs. Knott, Theodore's mother just outside the Flourish and Blotss. She was a tall, bony woman with short, jet black hair and rather weak jaw. Her husband has been amongst the death eaters caught at the ministry a few months ago.

"Narcissa," she said, stopping on a sidewalk. "How have you been?"

"Good," replied Draco's mother indifferently. "We are just finishing our shopping." Mrs. Knott's eyes traveled to Draco and then back to Narcissa.

"You might want to postpone your trip to Gringotts," advised mrs. Knott, nodding toward a white marble building, casting a long shadow on the street below it. "It have waited for three hours to withdraw my gold," she said, shaking her head disbelief. "I fear, Narcissa," she said, lowering her voice slightly "the old, respectable family names means nothing anymore to those foul creatures…"

The two women broke off in a conversation while Malfoy peared toward the darkened narrow street on the left of the Marble building, above which there was a shabby looking sign which said: Knockturn Alley.

"Listen, mother," he said. "I still have to buy some quiddich supplies."

"Alright," she replied, absorbed in the conversation and Draco left them silently, disappearing into the darkened street, looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody saw him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

Draco Malfoy pondered over the events that went down in the dimly lit shop of Burgin and Burkes, as he sat on the Hogwarts express a week later. Burgin have been very reluctant to make any promises on providing him the information on how to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, that is until Draco had shown him the mark. He could see the color draining from Caractacus' face as he lifted the sleeve of his shirt, fear, flashing through the man's eyes. Draco felt a sudden rush of power and control at this. He left the shop soon after that with assurance that the cabinet's twin shall be safe and a little piece of paper with the words _Harmonia_ _Nectere_ _Passus_ scribbled on it.

Draco pressed his face, which was heated from dragging his trunk up to the train, gently to the cool surface of the window. The platform was partly obscured by the steam of the engines, the air filled with children's screams, owls hooting and the sound of trunks rolling on the cobbled floor.

Draco sought his mother, who was standing at the far end of the crowd, looking out of place with stiff posture, pale, composed face and spotless appearance among a hoard shabby, patched cloaks, mismatched hats, even, Draco thought to himself, disgusted, _muggle_ clothes.

She caught his gaze, smiled palely at him and raised her hand into a waive. Draco nodded back, remembering vaguely, how just a year ago, both of his parents have been standing there, saying goodbye. His thoughts were broken by the sudden sounds of the train, slowly leaving the station. He caught a glimpse of jet black hair of Harry Potter, hurrying past his window and thought, that if his plan works out, he will be dead within five months.

There were three other people in his compartment. Crabbe and Goyle, sitting by the door, each reading their own comic book, Zabini, with the usual expressionless mask on his face and Pansy Parkinson, who sat very close to Draco, playing with a stream of her hair.

"You seem stressed," she said, grabbing his shoulders gently, trying to get him to lay his head onto her lap. Draco had let her and she began stroking his hair, looking rather pleased.

Blaise disappeared a few hours into the trip after he'd gotten a letter from professor Slughorn to join him in his compartment. Draco has heard his father talking about Slughorn on a couple occasions when reminiscing about his school days. He described him as a collector of gifted or otherwise well connected students, the _crème de la crème_ so to speak.

So why was _he_ not invited? Wouldn't he be a great addition to the old Slughorn's collection? He was, after all, one of the few direct descendants of an ancient pure-blood line, he was a prefect, a member of the quidditch team and he had received more than satisfactory results in his O.W.L exams.

"So what did Slughorn want?" he asked indifferently when Zabini came by their compartment an hour later and sat back on his chair, opposite from Malfoy.

Blaise was a tall, slender boy, with dark skin and high cheekbones. His eyes, which were a very dark shade of brown, always seemed a bit bored.

"Oh, you know, making new webs of connections."

"Who else has he invited?" pressed on Draco, sitting up now and leaning on the back of his seat.

"Two blokes from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," replied Zabini, expressionless. "Also Longbottom," (Draco snorted) "Potter and that Granger girl."

"I understand Potter," said Draco, his resentment building up in him. "Precious little Potter, the chosen one and all that… but why the other two?"

"Well, I have no idea about Longbottom," said Pantsy "but that Granger is quite brainy, maybe that's why he picked her." When nobody replied, she continued, a slight grin on her face. "too bad brains can't help her not to be an ugly insufferable know-it-all."

"She's not that ugly," said Zabini flatly. "although I wouldn't touch a filthy little mudblood like her no matter how good she looked." Draco nodded in agreement, trying not to think of his task.

"I will never understand how she got Krum to date her in the fourth year," continued Pantsy, apparently not quite done bashing the mudblood yet.

"That bloke's been hit over the head with a bludger one to many times, if you asked me," said Zabini and the whole group chuckled.

Draco lay back into Pantsy's lap and she continued to stroke his hair. He felt anger and resentment stirring up in him. Exclusion was something we was not used to nor did he care much about it.

"My father spoke very highly of Slughorn back in the days… he was a bit of a favourite of him…" he said, lazily. "Shame, he's probably gone senile and forgotten to invite me."

The truth, which was that his invitation probably hadn't arrived because of his father's imprisonment, stayed lost in the air.

"But what do I care," he continued, as nobody said anything in his agreement. "if some old fat hasbeen doesn't want me to be his pet. Chances are I won't even be returning to Hogwarts next year." Draco was pleased to see he had gotten their attention at last. Crabbe and Goyle gaped at him, Pantsy's hand froze mid stroke, even Blaise, whose face has always been a mask of boredom and indifference, stared curiously at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Pantsy, slightly hurt.

"Well," said Draco, shrugging. "I might move to bigger and better things."

He let that statement sink in, enjoying the effect. After all, what was the exclusion from the Slughorn club compared to the inclusion into the Dark lord's most inner circle?


	5. Chapter 5

**It has been a long time since I last updated this story- sorry for that. I will try to post more frequently from now on. I also apologise for all the mistakes upfront, English is not my first language so there are bound to be some. Please, let me know what you think of the story so far!**

 **Chapter five**

Next morning, Draco was awoken by Crabbe and Goyle's muffled talk and the cracking of the bedroom door when they left the room. Draco changed out of the robes he fell asleep in and put on what he usually wore on a school day; dark trousers, a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top and a dark green tie, loosely tied around his neck. He picked up his brown leather bag and headed toward the Great hall.

He ate his buttered toast with jam silently, pretending to listen to the Crabbe and Goyle's heated discussion of whatever moronic thing they were currently arguing about. Pantsy sat a few seats away- he caught her somewhat angry gaze a few times. He knew he would have to make it up to her if he wanted to keep her around, but he wasn't worried much yet.

He waited for the copy of his timetable, which landed neatly in front of him after the plates have disappeared. Snape didn't bother to check it with each student individually like other heads of houses did, so Draco was once again one of the first students to leave the Hall. He noticed he had a lot of free period between classes, which he decided would be best to spend thinking about his plan.

After two weeks or so Draco noticed he shared three classes with the Granger girl. The Potions, the Defence against the dark arts and Herbology all of which were also attended by Potter and Weasley. They went everywhere together. They walked together around the school, they ate together, they spent their free periods on the grounds together. Draco often saw them through the windows, sitting on the grass by the lake, Potter and Weasley talking to each other and her with her nose in the book. They were _inseparable_.

But there was something that put these worries out of his head, at least for an hour or so. _Quidditch_. Their first training lesson was on the Friday evening, two weeks after the school has started. Draco left the Castle with Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini, who were also on the Slytherin team. Urguhart, who was their captain, spoke for a while about this year's strategy and then finally, they mounted the brooms and flew up in the air.

It was the best feeling there was, thought Draco, as his Nimbus 2001 swished around, a strong wind ruffling his blond hair. Once he was up in the air, all his worries seemed to be left on the ground. There, there was no mission. No plan. No prospect of a punishment if he failed.

But this sudden feeling of freedom soon faded when he was leaving the pitch after practice and a younger looking slytherin caught up with him.

"What?" Draco snapped at him and continued walking. The boy gave him a note and disappeared. It was from professor Snape, an appointment to meet him after practice that day in his dungeon classroom. Draco sighed, annoyed. He saw this coming.

He walked back to the castle with his team, then departed and headed to professor Snape's office. He knocked and stepped in. It was a dark, dingy room and the only source of light were high candles, casting long and ominous shadows on the stone walls. The former potions master was sitting behind an old wooden desk and scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"Sit," he said shortly and Draco obliged.

Professor Snape definitely looked happier than usual these days. He prowled the castle floors with an expression on his face that could have been matched by that of a cat that had just hunted a big fat mouse. But of course he was pleased with himself. He finally got a job he had always wanted and with it a definite proof of Dumbledore's unwavering trust in him. Furthermore, after the unfortunate fiasco at the Ministry, his father and aunt Bella had been knocked down, making Snape the Dark lord's favourite and most trusted follower. _For now._

"So?" said Snape, putting down his quill, boaring his gaze into Draco.

Draco felt a sudden urge to reply: _so what_ , but thought better of it and remained silent.

"What is your plan?"

"I have found a way to transport her from Hogwarts, " Draco said after a few moments. He could not refuse to answer, but he didn't want to reveal his plan either. "I just have to repair something. Shouldn't take long."

"Good," said Snape, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

"And what is the situation with miss Granger?"

Draco shrugged. "We share three classes. She spends her time with Potter and Weasley. That's it for now."

"That's it?" said Snape. "Do you mean to tell me that you have been here for two weeks and this is all you have come up with?"

Draco felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Have you made contact yet?"

"No."

"Do you think this is a game?" snapped Snape, his voice rising though still under control. "Do you think she will go willingly? Because I can tell you now you cannot overpower her. Do you think you will gain her trust? Trust of a girl that has been running around with Potter for six years?"

"No," said Draco again, rather stupidly.

"Good. Because you won't."

"It's not my fault that I haven't made contact yet, given that she spends every damn second with those two idiots."

Snape smiled a smile that did not reach his cold, black eyes.

"Then find a way to _separate_ them."


End file.
